Secrets of the Asylum
by FizzGryphon
Summary: There was a breach, not a large one, but a breach just the same, and if something could get in... something could get out. Most of them were in hibernation, but a select few had gathered, and they had grown strong.
1. Chapter 1: Doctor, Doctor

**I've been working on this story behind the scenes since early last year. It's gone through several phases and rewrites inside the mess that is Google Docs. While much of it is still incomplete and the going is slow, I thought I'd post the first chapter here and now just to see what people think.**

Vras' eyestalk swivelled over the whole of the window open to space. The blue light reflected in the glass, casting an eerie glow across her dome. "Status report on our position," she ordered. Her voice was grating, but oddly less so than most other Daleks - even those of her era.

"The Doctor is coming."

"Good," Vras said, venom in her voice. She felt giddy, and this excitement caused the blue light to brighten, causing it to gleam even brighter against her gold and white casing. Everything was going according to plan. Her mind and her computers raced together. Nothing could go wrong. The Doctor would come, and he would help them… help them rule the world. Her dome swung to stare the lower ranking Dalek in the eye. "Prey has become predator, and predator prey."

"But-" the Dalek she was staring down looked very unsure of itself. It was her mate, a Dalek named Kore. He was a skittish Dalek of one of the earliest models, but he was smart. His appendages trembled nervously.

"The court is questioning your judgement. They wish to hold a meeting to question your command."

Vras' single blue eye became a beacon of hatred and venom. "What?" her voice was deadly and quiet, a stark contrast to a usual Dalek's squawking.

"I support your plan," he said quickly. _Coward,_ Vras thought, though she wouldn't dare accuse him out loud. He had been the one to get them the ship they were currently residing in, and the one that had helped most in breaking their prison open. It had been Vras' planning, yes, but ultimately Kore's mind that freed the Daleks of the starship from the Asylum. It was for this reason - and many others that Vras tried to shove back into the recesses of her mind, with all other emotions and feelings - that he was her mate. "But others are doubting in your ability to lead," he continued, voice taking a higher tone as he was pinned under Vras' gaze. "They are doubting it will work. The Doctor is the enemy of the Daleks. He is dangerous."

"He is compassionate," Vras said, her voice even and unphased. She turned away from her mate. "He will not harm us."

"We are _Daleks_ ," Kore argued, regaining confidence as her cool gaze slid away from him. "He will not trust us."

"Do you doubt my ability, Kore?" Vras asked. There was no show of worry or accusation in her voice.

"No."

"Then trust and obey me."

"I obey."

With that Kore slipped back into the bustle of the rest of the ship as Daleks worked to get the thing running. It was anything but a smooth ride, built from scraps of a vessel that crashed upon the Asylum planet several years ago now. The ship was ragged and falling apart. It took constant effort to keep it flying… and such was the reason they needed the Doctor. Without him, Vras doubted they could go any further into space without being destroyed. Her Daleks were vulnerable, and that vulnerability made her uneasy.

Perhaps, when they were stronger, they could rescue the other more sane Daleks from the several Asylum planets out there - give them something to live for, to fight for… to perhaps even die for. She subconsciously adjusted the nutrient supply she was feeding her offspring. They had been born not a week ago, and were now residing in the base of her casing. She'd been lucky to have once served as a broody, as the saying went, and care for the test-tube embryos the Dalek Empire produced to keep the Empire's future safe. Now these birthing creches served this same purpose, but this time, _this_ time, these young Daleks were of her own blood, and they would serve the purpose of her empire of peace rather than destruction.

The sound of a door sliding open and shut knocked her from her thoughts. "Vras," a voice grated.

"Tulk," she said, her cold eye catching him off guard. She wasn't sure what made her gaze so different from other Daleks, but she found it a weapon to induce fear and respect. "Speak."

"The court requests your presence. They are conflicted. I cannot order you, but I must recommend your presence."

"What rank are you?"

"Geneticist," he answered dutifully.

"Then why is it that you are here rather than Oak?" Despite Kore being her mate, it was Oak who was her second in command. He was stronger, more decisive, and a thoughtful Dalek. The two words almost clanged together broken in her mind. How he'd become so philosophical, she could not know, but it had been he who had brought this band of Daleks together. His strange sense of freedom and justice, however, continued to make Vras' Daleks uneasy. She kept him on a low profile in attempt to keep them from rebelling. They did not trust his bizarre way of thinking so easily as she.

"Oak is present at court."

A new urgency passed through Vras. Without responding to Tulk's words, she glided down from her position and out of the bridge. She made her way through the corridors and into what used to be a mess hall when the ship was operating under humanoid beings. It was the largest place on the ship, and altogether about twenty Daleks could occupy the space comfortably. There was a bit of commotion as Oak spoke in his odd way, trying in vain to capture some inspiration within the eyes of his audience. "Do you not see? We are a dying ship. We are falling, and we will fail if the Doctor cannot help us. He is our hope. He is our strength. We are in need, and he will have compassion. He _always_ has compassion."

Vras wished he responded to her stare, but he was the only Dalek that seemed not to squirm under it. His words might have been true, but they were not complete. They were illogical. She took over. "Your doubt is understood. The Doctor has been a dangerous enemy - The Oncoming Storm - to our race. I understand your fear. It is possible he will not join us, but without him we have no future." A portion of her thoughts went to her young, but she hated the newfound emotion connected to them, and tried to keep herself focused.

"We are vulnerable!" Yaar, an older model of Dalek, painted with blue livery that made her equally unique as Vras in looks among the newer, bronze casings that made up the bulk of the ship's crew. "The Doctor is the Predator. He is the destroyer of Daleks. If he should choose, he will exterminate us."

"Fear of the Doctor is for the weak," Vras hissed, taking on a tone that sounded almost as arrogant as the Supreme. She could tell she was being listened to, however, as eyestalks followed her as she spoke. It was this tone - this demanding, fear inspiring tone - that allowed her command. It was the voice of a leader, of someone in complete confident control. It was the only voice some of these Daleks - the more 'sane' ones - would listen to. The only voice they would obey.

There was more argument back and forth, but in the end it was Vras who won. The court, used to bounce ideas back and forth, formulate strategies, and hammer out flaws, was at current happy with Vras' command. Many of the Daleks on the ship felt rather useles, without direct orders. They had to think for themselves - something they might never have done before being thrown to the Asylum - and Vras was a leader that could take some of that responsibility away. It was this ability to think freely that made Vras leader, and not power hungry fools such as Yaar who cracked under the pressure to make more than small decisions alone.

The gold and white Dalek glided back to the bridge with Oak and Kore at both her sides. Kore was so close to her as they moved side by side that one fender rubbed constantly and annoyingly against her own. It was clear he was itching to say something. However, it wasn't until they were in the bridge that Vras gave him permission to speak. "The Doctor…" he started, his voice high with nervousness, "is coming."

"Yes."

"Are you certain this is best?"

"Affirmative."

"The Oncoming Storm?"

Vras understood his fear. The Dalek was the oldest of all of them on the ship. It was possible he was one of the oldest Daleks even still in commission. He retained what could be considered the most 'flaws' in Dalek development. He was constantly plagued with emotions - particularly of doubt and fear - and was most irrational, even if highly intelligent. While he might not have been a warrior all throughout the ages, he knew about events in Dalek history that even the Daleks themselves lacked records of. The Doctor was Dalek enemy Number One - and of all Daleks, Kore understood this the most.

The light of Vras' eye grew softer, considering this. She, too, was subject to emotions, though perhaps not quite as strong as those of Kore. It was possibly for this reason he was her mate. They understood each other in a way no other Dalek possibly could, and something that they might dare to be called love had grown between the two from this mutual understanding. They were not perfect like the others in the eyes of the Daleks. They both suffered from a defect, a defect which allowed them emotions - emotions not simply of hate or fear, and not emotions which made them insane, like some Daleks of the Asylum, but emotions like that of many other humanoid races, which were integrated into a part of daily life.

She stuffed this thought away. She was a Dalek. While she could not deny she had such feelings and notions, she could not let them govern her ways. They could get her killed. They could cause the deaths of all fifty three Daleks on board. She could not let them control her as they controlled the hundreds of races exterminated by the Daleks. It would be logic that won this fight.

"The Doctor is compassionate," she said, aiming to give him hope. "He will understand." But in even her own mind there was doubt. She recalled old memories… the whole reason she'd been thrown to the Asylum. She had let the Doctor trick her, trick her into killing an entire fleet of Daleks. She had been stationed to be a 'companion' of a sort to the Doctor, to gain his trust and gain intelligence from him as she did. It was a ploy to destroy him, to exterminate him. The ruse had worked at first, but the Doctor saw through her. Somehow he had appealed to her emotions and whatever scrap of humanity she had left within her. She had literally _let_ him win. She had sat there and done nothing as almost a million Daleks were killed mercilessly and instantly.

She had learned two things that day: to never let emotions back into her mind, and that the Doctor was more dangerous than she ever had expected. Her hatred for him had grown so far as to cause her to disobey even a Supreme's order. She became dangerous, and was locked away. For the longest time her hatred was seething and destructive… all she had wanted to do was exterminate the Doctor, to make him pay for his actions. It was only through time and interaction with other Daleks such as Kore and Oak that she had come to respect him, to _almost_ forgive him.

And now as it was, even to depend on him.


	2. Chapter 2: Surprise

The TARDIS wasn't behaving properly. She was having one of her fits, he supposed as he desperately tried to control her. It was as if there were turbulance in the Vortex… but there was no sign of temporal disturbance. The Doctor was flung across the consol, grabbing onto one of the levers in a desperate attempt to righten himself. Blinking, his eyes widened. He'd just issued the ship to land. Letting go, he was thrust backwards so that he fell against the railing behind him. He stayed there, the ground beneath him too unsteady to attempt to rise, clinging to the railing like his life depended on it. They'd come in for a landing, it wouldn't be the best, but they'd land safely… he hoped. There was soon the signature squawk as the TARDIS came to a stop. The ground gradually stopped trembling, and the Doctor pulled himself up on wobbly knees. "Alright, old girl," he said, running one hand along the railing as if stroking her. "What is it?"

Checking a few of the gauges, he discovered the atmosphere outside to be breathable and without toxins. That was a plus. He didn't like being places where he couldn't get out of the TARDIS without a spacesuit. They were fun for a short while, but wherever the TARDIS landed without him in control he seemed to stay a while. He straightened his tweed jacket and ran his fingers through his hair once, bouncing on his heels, then pushed open the beautiful blue doors.

He stepped out onto metal flooring which vibrated with power. The gravity, too, was artificial. He instantly suspected he was on a ship. The room was completely empty save for himself, and he realized he was in a cargo hold. The Time Lord's hazel eyes swept across the hold, confused. The hold was completely empty. There was _nothing_. Or… nothing but his TARDIS. That was unusual. Normally a ship like this would be filled with emergency supplies at least. Unless… he ran towards the door, and it slid open with a sharp click. Still there was no sign of life.

Taking off down the hallway, he began to wonder what had happened. There was an inconsistency in the way the engines purred… as if the old ship was straining to keep flying. The interior itself looked as if it had taken a beating, and much of it seemed to be put together with a variety of different parts - some he regognized and others he didn't. Perhaps the crew had been attacked, but by what? Whoever was here, if anyone was still alive, they needed help.

He continued walking down the hall. It was as if the ship was dead… as if there were not a soul aboard. It was a ship devoid of life. Just as he began to figure his way to the bridge, he heard the sound of humming machinery.

But this was not just any sound, it was a far too familiar sound. It inspired nightmares. He knew it instantly, and his hearts beat faster. _Daleks._ If they were here, then there was no telling what could happen… although, he supposed, they no longer knew who he was. He had Oswin to thank for that… the thought brought a bittersweet feeling to his soul. At least now he had the upper hand. If they didn't know who he was he had the ability to remain unpredictable.

An eyestalk rounded the corner, its blue light flickering wildly. It was not long before the whole of the bronze casing was facing towards him, gun and sucker arm twitching madly. "The Doctor is detected! The Doctor is here!" it screeched to its commanders.

He couldn't help but to frown. Today was just not his lucky day. He had already grabbed his sonic, though he knew it would be useless, and contemplated running back to the TARDIS, but what position would that put him in? He could run away, but what about the possible people? The Daleks _had_ to be the one that had attacked, or perhaps were in the process of attacking this ship. They could be dead, he supposed, but he didn't want to take that chance. Even saving one life would be better then leaving them all to die at a Dalek's gunpoint.

However, that plan was ruled out when a second of the tank-like creatures glided up to him and pressed its sucker against his back. He felt it grip him tightly, and he knew he was unable to escape. They hadn't exterminated him, however, and he was thankful for that. It meant they wanted something from him, and whatever it was they wanted was important to some plan of theirs. "Alright, then," he said, trying to twist around despite the knowledge he wasn't going anywhere. "I'll listen. You can let go now."

"Do as he says," a voice barked. The Doctor fell to the ground. He quickly jumped to his feet as agile as a cat, but winced and rubbed his shoulder some only a minute later. His eyes met the eyestalk of the Dalek that had spoken. The Doctor couldn't help but gawk at the sight of an old Imperial Dalek facing him. They had all been destroyed years ago, though he supposed this one looked a little worse for ware. "You have arrived early, Doctor. We were not expecting you for another of your hours."

"Yeah? I'm not known for being on time… but usually I'm late," he said, trying to regain some dignity after having fallen. "It doesn't hurt to be early, though, does it? What's your plan this time, or are you just raiding a vessel purely to destroy it?"

The Imperial Dalek largely ignored him. "This ship is mine, Doctor. It was taken bloodlessly. The parts from this vessel were obtained when it crashed on our Asylum approximately one year ago. The passengers did not survive."

 _One did,_ the Doctor thought bitterly, realizing that the Dalek was talking of the now destroyed Asylum planet - the same one where Oswin had been cruelly converted into a Dalek, the same planet which she had died on to save he and his companions. A ship had gotten in… a ship had gotten out. _That_ was how this Imperial Dalek had survived. His glare grew stronger, and he grew even more wary. If these were Asylum Daleks, then he could not so easily predict their next moves nor their purpose. "That's _not_ bloodlessly," he stated in a low, hateful whisper.

"The Asylum killed them. There was no hope in saving them. It would have been a waste of time, and Time, Doctor, was not something we had in abundance. It is something that still threatens to defeat us."

"Good," the Doctor said, raising his voice. "Because I never want to see another one of your kind again."

"You do not understand, Doctor," the Dalek continued, its voice even and staccato. "Come. We will show you."

He didn't much care to be shown around, but he felt the Dalek that had been previously grabbed him push him some to get moving. The Doctor would not let the creature tell him what to do. The man picked up his feet and walked with dignity towards wherever the golden and white Dalek was taking him. All the while his mind turned over a plan of escape.


End file.
